poems

Stone-faced

Wailing, bearing flowers
and collapsing to her knees,
her hot tears fall upon me—

But I remain unmoved,
stone-faced, above it all—
her face etched with grief
and mine with the years,
weathered with past life—

Gently she touches my face
and presents me the flowers—
I’ve seen her cry many times
but it is in my nature to be
rough and cold, grounded
in reality I know nothing else—

Still she keeps coming back to me
and though I cannot give her love
I will always guard hers.

Terri Guillemets

Counting up

First four decades time’s a hero
Then stops suddenly all the fun
Forty arrives a stranger new
But life is like a grand old tree
Strong yet flexible at the core
Roots ever deepen to stay alive
At this age there’s no real fix
Just patches is all, ’til heaven
Although it still be not too late
So let the autumn soul shine
Breathe and let thy life go zen

Terri Guillemets

How fares it?

Thigh-bone said to breast-bone:
      “How fares it, dead,
now heart’s soft hammer
      is silencèd?
How fares it, brother,
      when the only sound
is slow roots thrusting
      into the ground?”
Breast-bone said to thigh-bone:
      “How fares it, friend,
with no errands to run,
      no knee to bend?
How fares it ghost, now
      the only stir
is of quiet becoming
      quieter?”
Thigh-bone and breast-bone
      said to skull:
“What of dead Plato
      and the Greek trull?
How fares it, emblem
      of death, set free
from wisdom and lust’s
      infirmity?”…

—Humbert Wolfe (1885–1940), from “A Conversation,” 1932